Cousins, Identical Cousins — Dogs, That Is

How I landed in the situation is too complicated to explain: Flying last week to visit in-laws in Onset, Mass. (that’s near Cape Cod), husband flies home to Studio City earlier than I do, sister-and brother-in-law (who own the summer beach house) return to nearby Boston to work during the week, other relatives and friends come and go in a flurry of post-4th of July holiday visits…anyway, the upshot of it all was that, for four days, I was in charge of Heidi’s East Coast cousin, Rusty the Cockapoo.

Or perhaps Rusty was in charge of me.

Rusty is my sister-in-law Barbara Elfman’s dog (he has turned up several times in our A Paw in the Door column).  He is small, curly, rust-colored and cute. He is quite attached to Barbara and spends much of his time sitting behind her in the big soft chair in the beach house living room, his reddish curls blending in with her reddish curls, keeping watch through the window over his loyal subjects, the people of Onset.  Barb and Rusty go everywhere together, including out into the bay in their kayak.

But after his  exciting weekend overseeing the local fireworks spectacular and helping Barbara monitor 14 houseguests, being left without his Mom—with me in charge —was apparently  not what His Royal Rustiness had in mind.

My mother-in-law Jan and my father-in-law Stewart from Arizona remained in residence, but my behavior was more subject to Rusty’s scrutiny because I was the responsible party for the most important tasks: feeding, walking, snacks and bedtime behavior (that means inviting the dog to bed).

One would think that after 10 years of feeding, walking, snacking  and sleeping with  a 70-pound German shepherd, wrangling the diminutive Rusty would be a snap. But on  his first day without Barbara, The Small One staged a hunger strike, ignoring everything in his dish except the tasty chicken atop  the kibble. After not eating, he observed me from reproachful distance. Don’t mind me, finish your Scrabble game, I’ll just starve to death while Mom is gone…

Rusty remained enthusiastic about walks, zigzagging through Onset like a little bullet train, leaving  captive canines on screened-in porches howling in his wake and adorable children with ice cream cones cooing: “Look at the cute little dog!” After years of picking up after Heidi, I marveled at these diminutive poops.   Hey, they were cute, too!

This I seemed to be doing  right – until  I screwed up the Cookie Ritual.

At first, I just forgot that Rusty must have a mini-Milk Bone upon returning from each walk, a reward for doing his business (a Milk Bone is also bestowed for his solo pee outside the back door before bed).  My apology was accepted with a tentative acceptance of the Milk Bone despite a brief delay. 

But then, after our first afternoon walk together,  I made the mistake of  saying: “Rusty, sit!” before handing out the Milk Bone.   What??  A random command when the required behavior had already been accomplished?  Rusty refused to take the Milk Bone and skulked off into the living room.  Next time, I refrained from the “sit” command and just handed out the treat.   Rusty grabbed it with gusto. Finally, I was properly trained.

And after a day or so Rusty started nibbling at his kibble. He laid his silky ears on my laptop and brought me his toys because, after all, I couldn’t help not being Barbara.  He started sitting for his Milk Bone without being asked. At night, instead of guarding the door outside my room, a flying leap would land him in the middle of my bed, immovably asleep in seconds.  In case anyone ever asks you, yes — it is possible for a Cockapoo lying at just the right angle to take up as much room as a German shepherd. (My husband Alan and I exchanged e-mail images of the “identical” cousins at bedtime. Although they have never met I think the dogs are sharing tips).

And, on my last night with Rusty, he climbed up behind my on the sofa and sat in my hair, his red curls and my brown ones blending into a new breed, maybe a Rusty-Diane-apoo.  This unusual mix does not require a cookie after peeing — but wouldn’t say no to a nice slice of pie.

P.S. Heidi wanted me to include a picture of her newest cousin in Seattle, my sister Susan’s new Springer spaniel puppy: Pansy Eulalie Beauregard.